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Stanley was a writer, a bloody good one, as it had turned out. It was almost as if there was some smutty guardian angel watching over his shoulder, prompting his fingers as they tapped out sexy prose.

Whilst at university, he’d been working on his dissertation when he’d met the woman who was to become his muse, Elsa. As a result, he had discovered his knack for writing and not just erotica, although that’s where his main talent seemed to lie.

Elsa had rocked his world, with her sparkling blue eyes, long, blonde hair and ready smile. He was bewitched by her shapely form, the curve of her ass and that cleavage, those breasts! He was hard even thinking about her now! He’d been out with some fellow students, at The Shaky Cup Cafe, drinking coffee or tea and discussing how to put the world to rights, when he had seen her for the first time. He had actually gasped at the beauty and the sheer sensuality she exuded. She was stunning and he had simply sat, staring, mouth agape. He’d had to move his newspaper over his crotch as it seemed that his cock was not immune to her charms either. She was elegant, carefree, intelligent and funny, possessing a liquid grace that could not be ignored. Suddenly he understood, the poetry, love songs, even paintings by the great masters – it all made sense. He had known, in that moment that he had to have her.

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